Mine
by Kaede-tama
Summary: On that metal table lies Matthew Williams - frightened, throat raw from screaming, bound eagle-spread with no hope of escaping. Onesided USCan, mentioned UKCan; dark!AU


Mine

**. . .**

An agonized shriek pierces the silence of the night and marks the beginning of a hellish nightmare.

The room is pitch black save for a single light bulb that hangs in the middle, swaying slightly with soft creaks of the rusty chain. It illuminates a single piece of furniture: a long metal table. And on that metal table lies Matthew Williams - frightened, throat raw from screaming, bound eagle-spread with no hope of escaping.

Despite the poor lighting, he knows one thing: his captor is standing in the very same room with several tools at hand.

One is a candle with hot wax that drips down its side in slow drips.

Another is a whip.

The third is a blade.

But it's no good to start in the middle of the story; let's start from the very beginning, to the very first event that set off this disastrous domino effect.

This story begins with a note.

**. . .**

_I'd die just to hear you say my name._

**. . .**

"But really, that bloody git deserved it. He was most likely trying to finish the homework for the next class while I did all of the work for our project." Arthur pauses, frowning at his best friend across the table. "Matthew? Are you even listening?"

Matthew tears his eyes up and away from the piece of paper in his hand. He smiles, though it looks dreamy. "Of course," he replies, and his cheeks warm at being caught.

They lapse into silence. "You've written someone a love note, haven't you," Arthur deadpans, because the only other time that Matthew's blushed like that was when he got the courage to ask his eighth grade crush out on a date. And he knows the Canadian too well, no matter how badly he wants to be the one on the receiving end of those hypothetical love notes.

(He's certain that Matthew would do a lovely job of writing sappy love confessions.)

"N-No!" Matthew squeaks, thus only amplifying Arthur's suspicions. The boy sighs and slumps down in his seat. "I got one, actually…"

This catches Arthur's attention. He sits up a little straighter in his seat and stretches out a hand. When Matthew stares at him indecisively, Arthur falters. "I-If I may?" he offers.

Matthew finally shrugs and hands the paper over, though his cheeks are still stained with pink.

It takes only a few seconds for Arthur to read the short message. "Hm," he says once he's finished, returning the paper. He hopes that the anger doesn't show too much on his face.

"Yeah," Matthew mumbles. "Didn't know that anyone else noticed me…"

Arthur studies the boy across from him - takes in wavy, soft-looking blond tresses, angled cheekbones, pink lips, eyes the most beautiful shade of indigo he's ever seen. He wonders to himself, _How could they not? _

He wants to tell Matthew this, but he'd like to keep his best friend, thank you very much.

So instead he shrugs and says, "Their loss."

**. . .**

_You're the reason why I get up everyday._

**. . .**

Matthew stares down at the scrap of paper, an expression of astonishment evident on his face.

Behind him, Arthur gives a gentle nudge. "What's the matter?" the Englishman queries, sounding a little impatient. He shifts his tray to his other hand and points at the paper. "What is that?"

"Another note." Matthew found it while digging through his backpack for that day's lunch money. "I think-"

"Move out of the way!" a student behind them yells.

Matthew's face turns red and he hurries to hand a five-dollar bill to the lunch lady. Arthur shoots a mean glare at the boy who'd yelled out, before paying and following Matthew to their lunch table.

"I think," Matthew begins again as they sit down, "that it's from the same person." The handwriting looks similar, at least.

Arthur takes a rather vicious bite out of his cookie. "Did they sign it this time?" he says, trying his best not to sound too snappy.

"No…" Matthew glances up, sees his expression, then decides that maybe Arthur wasn't too fond of the current subject. "A-Anyways, can you help me with my history homework?"

**. . .**

_I wish I can run my hands through your hair._

_You're beautiful._

**. . .**

"I love you."

Matthew's gaze travels upwards hesitantly from the third scrap of paper in his hand(this time he found it in his pencil case), regarding the Englishman with an air of distractedness. "What was that, Arthur?"

Expression stern but eyes soft, Arthur repeats, "I love you."

This renders Matthew speechless. He looks up at his best friend with wide eyes. "You…what?"

"You heard me," Arthur replies. He hopes that his irritated tone makes up for the blush evident on his cheeks. "I refuse to repeat it for the third time."

"All right," Matthew squeaks. "It's just that… I…" He trails off into an uncertain silence, averting his gaze. His throat feels like it's tightening and he can't force any words past his lips.

Arthur sighs. "I'm sorry," he says. "Kindly forget that I said that. Cor blimey, I should have kept my mouth shut-"

"N-No!" Matthew cuts in. "I don't want to forget you said that. I w-was just surprised, is all…" A hesitant smile tugs at his lips. "I'm going to apologize in advance, though, because I'm most likely going to be horrible at this. I've never exactly been in a relationship, eh?"

The words registers in Arthur's brain and he blinks. "So you reciprocate my feelings?"

The way he says it makes Matthew burst into a fit of laughter. He stands from his seat, throwing his arms around Arthur happily. "What do you think?" he says, a little breathless.

"That you do?" Arthur offers. His face is flushed both in sheepishness and joy at the lovely boy hugging him. Slowly, he slips his arms upwards to press Matthew closer, and then he finds himself smiling so hard that his cheeks hurt.

The piece of paper flutters to the floor, forgotten.

**. . .**

_What do you see in him?_

**. . .**

Matthew looks around frantically, trying to spot any sort of suspicious-looking student from the mass of high-schoolers. His fingers are trembling slightly as he clutches the most recent note to his chest.

It was in his locker, and knowing that this…_stranger_ was able to get into it made him feel violated to an extent.

"Are you ready?" Arthur appears next to him. Matthew jumps in surprise, slamming his locker shut with a loud clang.

"Ready," Matthew whispers. He jams the note into his pocket and shoots his boyfriend (_boyfriend - _oh, maple) a nervous smile.

Arthur tilts his head questioningly, slowly looking from his face, his pocket, then his face again. "Are you still getting the notes?" he asks.

With a sigh, Matthew nods. "They know that we're…together," he murmurs. "Not that I'm afraid of anyone knowing, but we haven't exactly told anyone, have we?"

"No. That's strange." A thoughtful look comes over the Englishman's face. "Perhaps they overheard us at the library? We weren't exactly quiet."

"It's just that like that." Matthew shakes his head. "It's…_creepy._ They've been in my locker, Arthur."

"Just ignore them," Arthur suggests. "Eventually they'll go away. And if not, we'll say something to the principal." He wraps an arm around the smaller boy in a comforting half-hug. "All right?"

Matthew leans into the embrace gladly, but anxiety still tugs at his gut. "All right."

**. . .**

_I'd love you more than he ever could._

**. . .**

"Who are you?" Matthew's voice trembles in a shaky echo that travels down the empty hallway. He's alone, just packing up after staying for some extra research at the library, and it scares him. In his hand, he clutches the latest note he found in his locker. "If you're here, I want to at least know what you look like."

Unfortunately, his locker is rather far from the school's front doors. The lights have been dimmed down, creating shadows in the alcoves of the hall.

No one answers him.

"Pl-Please," he tries again.

It takes a few seconds, but finally something moves from the small alcove where the drinking fountain is. A boy emerges - he has blond hair, thin-rimmed glasses, and is donning a worn out bomber jacket.

Matthew exhales. "S-So you're the one who's been leaving the notes?"

The boy cocks his head.

"I-I'm Matthew Williams," Matthew continues, refusing to be daunted. He would end this now. "Though I think you might know that already… What's your name, eh?"

They stand in an awkward silence for quite some time, and Matthew silently debates on whether or not he should just walk past him. When the other doesn't say anything, Matthew bites his lip and starts walking.

Halfway past him, he finally gets a response: "Your accent's adorable, Mattie."

Matthew practically whips around. "Y-You-" he begins hotly.

"Alfred," the other interrupts. "I'm Alfred." He flashes a brilliant smile, seeming to be ignoring Matthew's blush.

"All right, Alfred," Matthew says. He makes sure to emphasize his name. "I have a boyfriend. I think your notes are sweet, but…" He can't force the words _I have a boyfriend_ out, in fear of getting a negative reaction.

"But you have Arthur Kirkland, right?" Alfred supplies, and something about the tone of his voice makes Matthew's blood run cold. Alfred only chuckles. "I still don't understand what you see in him."

Matthew opens his mouth to argue, but stops. _I don't have to prove anything to him!_ he thinks indignantly. With that in mind, he turns on his heels and walks briskly towards the front doors.

He fails to see Alfred almost maniacal grin.

**. . .**

_I love you so much, it hurts._

**. . .**

Matthew crumples up the note and tosses it into the trash bin.

**. . .**

_Why won't you love me back?_

**. . .**

"Do you know anyone named Alfred?" Matthew asks one morning. Arthur's just coming into the kitchen after arriving a few minutes prior. Matthew tries his best to avoid eye contact, instead choosing to busily rummage through cupboards.

Arthur arches an eyebrow. "I don't think so," he answers after a moment's hesitation. He takes a seat at the table, folding his hands underneath his chin in a steeply. "Why do you ask?"

Matthew shrugs, still not glancing back. "I was only wondering."

Neither of them speak for a while, just sitting there and eating. Finally, Arthur speaks up: "Are you still getting those notes?"

"No," Matthew rushes to lie. He doesn't want to worry Arthur. "They stopped. I think they got the message." He gulps, hoping that the lie is successful.

To his relief, Arthur believes it. "That's good." He pulls Matthew to his side and presses a chaste kiss to the smaller blond's temple. "Is something else the matter? You seem worried."

"Just thinking," Matthew replies shortly. Arthur seems to sense that he doesn't want to elaborate and asks no further questions - Matthew's thankful for that. The Canadian smiles up at his lover. "Would you like some pancakes?"

**. . .**

_Why won't you love me back?_

**. . .**

"Then why do you keep bothering me?" Matthew whispers to himself. He's just opened the library book he's about to return when he finds the note folded neatly underneath the front cover.

He glances around. No one else is in sight.

He hurries to drop off the book at the front desk and leave the library.

**. . .**

_Why won't you love me back?_

**. . .**

"A-Arthur, can I come over?" Matthew's voice trembles. As he speaks into the phone, he checks his windows to make sure that they are locked and covered by the curtains. "I r-really need to talk to you."

"Of course, love," Arthur replies, his English accent prominent even through the crackling of the line. "I'll prepare some tea for you."

The doorbell rings. Matthew freezes in the middle of the hallway, head slowly turning in the direction of the front door. "A-Actually, I was h-hoping that you could p-pick me up…"

It's nearing eight o'clock at night. He can't think of anyone who would want to visit him at this hour.

_Except Alfred._

Just thinking of the name sends shivers down his spine. He takes a hesitant step towards the door. "Arthur?" he speaks softly into the phone. "Are you still there?"

There's some rustling. "Sorry about that, my little brother just came into my room." Arthur's voice reaches his ears and provides some comfort. "What were you saying, Matthew?"

Ever nerve and cell and ounce of common sense is yelling at him not to come closer to the door. But there's also curiosity and determination to finally confront his personal stalker.

So instead of listening to his gut, Matthew storms to the door and wrenches it open in one fluid motion. He's already opened his mouth with several words prepared when he finds himself facing-

-nothing.

"Matthew?"

After realizing that Arthur is still on the other line, Matthew hurries to reply, "Sorry about that, Arthur, I thought someone was at the door…"

"Oh, that's all right." Arthur switches to a slightly chastising tone, "Though you really should be careful as to who you open your door to, Matthew."

No sooner that he says that, Matthew notices a folded piece of paper sitting in front of the door.

He bends down to pick it up, and his fingers have just barely brushed it when something wraps around his neck from behind and a cloth is pressed into his mouth.

The world goes black.

**. . .**

The note reads, _I'll make you love me._

**. . .**

This is the present: A little room with only one source of light. There's a table in the middle of that room, and on that table is a boy with the name of Matthew Williams.

He's bound eagle-spread by chains that feel like ice against his skin, and when he starts regaining consciousness, a strike of panic runs up his chest. The air that he breathes in is constricting and he wants nothing more than the damned blindfold around his eyes to be taken off.

And then there's a sound - a clatter. It's nearby, and Matthew tenses, trying to figure out as much as he can with the remaining sense he can utilize.

There's a low, dark chuckle. "Hey, Mattie."

A name pops up in Matthew's head: _Alfred._

And suddenly, he finds his heart picking up speed quickly - a _thumpthumpthumpthump_ that makes his chest ache. He pulls at his binds frantically and futilely; they don't budge. He stops when he feels a finger ghost along his cheek.

"I love you so much," comes the voice again. It sounds choked with emotion - perhaps it's meant to sound loving. But all it does is heighten Matthew's anxiety, send his imagination wild.

_What if he's a murderer and he's standing there with an ax or a chainsaw or what if he's going to rape me oh my god please I don't want to die I don't want to-_

"Mattie, you're trembling." The sickeningly sweet voice cuts into his thoughts. "Are you afraid?"

_Yes oh god _yes _I'm terrified._

"Don't worry, as long as you behave, I won't hurt you," Alfred continues to murmur. Matthew feels the blindfold being tugged away and slowly, he flutters his eyes open.

"I love you so much," Alfred coos, and Matthew sees a glimpse of wild blue eyes and the flash of a blade-

An agonized shriek pierces the silence of the night and marks the beginning of a hellish nightmare.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

I might write a second part to this, but I'm not sure. I kind of like the way it ended. xD

I'm not really sure what this is, to be honest. I wanted to write dark!Alfred, but I think I went over board, lol...


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